


To have and to hold

by Nym_the_Trans_Nympho



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breeding, Crack, Dark Jon Snow, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, Jon Snow is King in the North, Jon is completely down for it, Jon is dark as fuck and will get what he wants, Manhandling, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not to be taken seriously, Out of Character, Past Rape/Non-con, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Rape Fantasy, Rough Sex, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Sansa is kinky as fuck, Self-Indulgent, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Sorry Not Sorry, Unhealthy Relationships, but it's sexy, mention of past miscarriage, read the fucking tags, you don't like this ship then don't fucking read my story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nym_the_Trans_Nympho/pseuds/Nym_the_Trans_Nympho
Summary: Jon Snow comes back wrong, his desires enhanced, his inhibition and shame all but gone. He takes what he wants and not hell or high water will stand in his way. He will have Sansa, he will have his sister as his wife and his queen, he will  cut down their enemies and bring the dawn so they may see spring again.(mostly just an excuse to write Jonsa porn. Heed the tags)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 59
Kudos: 229





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IF THIS IS NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA DON'T BE A FUCKING STD INFESTED CUNT AND COME AT ME IN THE COMMENTS!!!!  
> For those of you who have come here for the Jonsa, the smut and to get your rocks off then please enjoy and leave a comment of what you might like to see in this fic.

He came back twisted and wrong, a dark mass of pulsating life that was not truly alive. He killed those that killed him with a brutal vengeance. He had them hung and then stabbed each one as they had stabbed him, twisting the knives, making sure it hurt. He had given them everything, sacrificed and endangered himself and others, tried to do the right thing, and look where it had gotten him. 

Melisandre watched in horror at what she had brought back to life, but when he took her by the throat and told her she was going to help him reclaim the North she nodded without hesitation. The Lord of Light had brought him back, she would not doubt that it was for a reason and would follow him. Davos was the one who asked her to bring him back, he felt it his responsibility to watch over Jon, and so he too followed Jon. The night watch, terrified and thinking Jon a god of some sort followed as well.

The Free Folk followed too, owing their lives to Jon. They would help him get his home back. He had men, but he needed more. He went house to house, and they first refused his call, but when he stood and his voice bellowed the oath they made to House Stark it was like a spell had been cast and they fell to their knees before him.

He took Winterfell without mercy, plundering his own home and swiping down any man that crossed him. He had the unrelenting endurance only a dead man could posses and when it was over, when he had Ramsay Bolton on his back and ready to kill him, Sansa stepped out into the courtyard.

His sister, a now widowed and bedded woman was still as radiant as the day she had walked into the king's feast on Joffrey’s arm, with her big blue eyes, long fire kissed hair over her shoulders, her slender waist, growing tits, and sweet cunt that she had let him taste over and over in their youth when their blood got hot. Even with the bruises on her arms, the dirty condition of her plain cotton gown and her bare feet she was beautiful. He noticed she was escorted out on the arm of a man who Jon recognized as Theon Greyjoy. But the man he saw had his face, but not his swagger, nor his confidant's eyes. This man was a broken shell of Theon and was no threat to him or his sister so he ignored him for now.

“Jon?” Sansa’s voice was a cracked whisper on the wind. A wind that rushed his way and filled him with life at the sight of her. He felt something deep and primal cry out inside him, his cock went hard as he looked his sister from head to toe. A woman blossomed indeed.

“Sansa.” his voice a husky whisper, he cared not for the thoughts of others. He would kill them all they dared speak in protest as he marched forward to Sansa, took her around the waist and pressed his mouth to her, taking her lips in a hungry open mouth kiss with teeth and tongue. She squeaked in surprise, pushed at his chest but she soon relented, despite her furious blush she went limp and let him have his way.

She was his. He remembered the nights they would sneak out of the keep, strip, and wade water in the hot springs of the gods wood. He remembered the first time she had spread her legs for him, let him taste her. She had let her bastard brother defile her, let him eat her cunt and fuck her mouth with his tongue in private. Jon had no need of worrying about crossing boundaries anymore, he was a deadman and the rules of the living did not apply to him anymore. He rolled his hips and rubbed his aching hard cock against Sansa who whimpered, her nails scratching at his leather armor.

“Mine.” he whispered into her ear before he trailed his lips down her neck, sucking and biting at the tender flesh, marking her. “Home, pack, mate.”

No-one stopped them, no one dared to approach. How did you intervene, why would you dare risk coming between a man like him and his prize? You wouldn’t. So the two were let alone, Sansa at Jon’s mercy. He brought his hand to her ass, grabbing and groping a supple globe over her shift before he was hiking her dress up over her thigh and feeling the bare flesh of her bottom with a bloody hand, the other in her hair, forcibly angling her head for a deeper kiss.

He wanted to go to his knees, lift up her skirts and put his face to her mound, to lap at her folds and hear her moans of ecstasy, his blood hot and pumping from the fighting and killing.

“Please, Jon..” Sansa managed to find her voice. 

“Not out here,” she begs, her neck craned back as he kisses it and rubs himself on her, practically humping her hip like a horny dog. 

He was trying to get his scent on her, mark her, let everyone know that he had chosen her to be his.

The fact that she wasn’t saying any sent a pleased hum through Jon and he loosened his hold on her, still holding her but stopping himself from going further with Sansa. 

“Inside?” he asked, seemingly only capable of one singular word sentence. 

She nodded and wrapped her arm around his back, guiding him towards the Keep. She cast a fearful look over her shoulders at the others but gave a nod of her head. She would handle this on her own, they had taken back Winterfell, Ramsay was dead, now she would do her part. She recognized the terrifying way they stared at Jon, they feared him and now she had to keep him from doing something terrible.

“I have you, Jon. Come, let us go inside and get you a bath poured.” Sansa said, playing concerned. “You’ve fought so hard, father and Robb would be proud.”

He gave a sigh and a hum as he let himself lean on her as she guided him up into the castle. She knew Ramsay had taken Roose’s rooms for himself, the room that belonged to her father and mother, it would be the best suited to taking care of him.

Sansa stopped across a maid on her way to the chambers with Jon and stopped to give her orders.

“Have a bath prepared in the Lords chambers and have someone send for Maester Wolkan to see to the wounded.” she told the girl almost sweetly and then added, “Winterfell belongs to the Starks once more.”

Sansa continued the way, walking a little straighter now as she felt a surge of power and confidence in herself now that Jon had killed Ramsay and taken back Winterfell. When they got to the Lords chambers, Sansa pushed open the door and went straight for the bed, sitting Jon on the edge. 

She now stood between his legs and Jon gripped her hips, fingers clawing and bunching the thin cotton up her thighs. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to her breast, his nose creasing and pushing the fabric between her tits. Such glorious tits. He let a hand leave her hip to untie the front of her dress some, so he could get a better look at how Sansa had really filled out over the years. 

Jon frowned when she put her hands over his, stopping him from pulling the strings loose. He looked up at her, frustrated, and with question. Why was she stopping him, she was the one who had said they would continue inside.

“I have scars now,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “He cut me.” 

A hot rage boiled in his grey eyes and he pried her hands from his, and instead of just undoing the laces he used both hands to rip the dress down the middle at the front. She gasped and shivered at the rough action, whimpering but Jon didn’t hear it as his chest heaved, breathing hard with fury. Her body indeed had been marred, long and short lines, some old and new, were all over her breasts, her stomach and sides, her thighs and when he turned her around it was just as bad if not worse on her back. 

The hot, angry prick of tears stung his eyes and her pressed his forehead to her spine, his arms wrapping around her from behind. 

“I’m sorry.” he croaked. 

“You didn’t do this to me,” she said, voice soft and sorrowful as she turned in his arms and cupped his face, some of the still-wet blood on his cheeks smearing her palm and fingers.

“In fact, you made it stop, you killed the monster,” she said, running her eyes over his barely recognizable face, with his beard and blood all over. His hair was longer and she pushed some of it back from his face.

“Did you miss me, sister?” he asked, his hands splayed across her back, pulling her closer until her now bare breasts were in his face.

“Of course,” she said and shivered with pleasure as he kissed the top of her tits, bending his head down.

“You were so happy to be engaged to that cunt Joffrey, I thought you would have forgotten all about me,” he said with a dangerous look in his eyes, that was followed with him taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking strongly.

Sansa gasped. “You know why that was. I had to move on from you, what I felt for you is wrong, it would have ruined us both if we didn’t---AH!”

He bit her nipple softly and began to pinch the other.

“Felt?” he asked, noting the past tense. His voice rough and deep, which made Sansa feel like blunt nails were being scratched her back. Afraid yet aroused. She wondered if that should make her feel afraid of him rather than attracted.

“Do you not still feel for me the way you did when we were children, do you not love me anymore, do you not crave my touch?” he asked, hand grabbing a firm, bubbly buttock.

“Gods, Jon--Uh.” her hips bucked towards him as he slips a hand from her breast to between her thighs, sliding a finger into her slick cunt, wet from his previous ministrations on her breasts that had her twitching and tingling already.

“It’s not right, we can’t do this.” she panted, her body hot with pleasure. She weakly grabbed at him and tried to push at Jon, trying to get him to stop. She needed to get the distance between them or else she feared how much further they would go.

“I mean, how could you have kissed me like that in front of all those lords and men,” she said and gasped when he thrust his fingers particularly deep and his thumb rubbed over her clit, sending a shudder up her spine. “Our family will be ruined.”

“Ah uh, uh.” her voice was delicious as he pumped his fingers in and out of her and stimulated her clit at the same time. Fucking her on his hand.

“Targaryen siblings fucked and married for centuries, and they stayed on that fucking throne for years. The whole of Westeros knows that Cersei and Jaime Lannister have been fucking all this time, yet they are still in power.” he reminded her, believing after years in the capitol she knew of the rumors about the queen’s affair with her own brother and how the boy Sansa once dreamed of marrying was her incestuous spawn. He wondered if that made her hot at night after those rumors started, to think of how the woman who she so admired touched her brother, wondering if it was anything like how they touched one another before she had left Winterfell.

Sansa had always loved the Targaryen love stories, why were Jaime and Cersei Lannister’s affairs any different of a story, if not perhaps more twisted than romantic.

“I love you, and you love me. I know you do,” he whispered huskily to her.

“We are the last of us, we are the very North those cowardly fools out there stand ground on. We shall rule together, keep our home, keep the North, together as the Targaryen’s did and do as only Cersei Lannister dreams of doing,” he smirked, and then his eyes went darker and he hungrily took her mouth with his again. 

His tongue mapped the inside of her mouth, teasing her teeth and flicking at her tongue in a way that he knew made her knees weak. He pulled away and she was flushed and dazed.

“Fuck what's right. I’m not right, the world is not right!” he shouted, hand still on her cunt, using it to guide her around so the back of her knees hit the bed. He pushed her down on her back, this time he was the one between her legs.

“I’m going to fuck you, and then tomorrow I’m going to marry you and then I’m going to fuck you again in front of everyone. I want to make sure they all know who you belong to.” his words were a growl as he laid himself atop of her.

“Marry me?” Sansa gaped. Probably thinking that wasn’t possible.

“This is the North. It can be done” he told her as he hiked a leg up over his hip and freed his cock from his trousers. “We shall make our own laws, the dragons and the walking dead do not answer to gods or men.”

Jon was already hard, his cock standing stiff and proud. He held the base and guided himself to the opening of her cunt and sunk into her in one swift motion. He shuddered at the tight wetness around him and took a shaky breath to control himself from releasing inside her too soon. He stilled and watched as Sansa gasped and arched her back off the soft downy mattress of the lord's bed. She was beautiful.

Jon smiled. Heaven was inside her body.

“My sweet girl, at last, I have all of you.” He whispered, his voice soft and his eyes were like the Jon she had known so long ago; brooding and longing for a life that they could never have together. Only now they could. 

Tears slipped from his eyes and he kissed her and this time she fully fell into it with him, cupping his face and stroking his beard as she slipped her tongue over his lips. Jon began to rock his hips, softly pumping his member in and out of her warm, wet cunny that gripped him so tightly. Her sweet moans created the most beautiful song she could ever compose, and he craved to make it a lasting symphony, focusing on her pleasure as he caressed her sides, pushed her legs up higher so that he might sink deeper inside her, to touch the places that made her gasp and her back arch.

  
He took care in giving attention to her splendid, full teats, beautiful, pale hilltops with rose nipples at their peaks. He suckled and kissed at her nipples, teasing her to ecstasy.

“That’s it, sweet sister, let me hear you cry for more,” Jon said followed by a grunt as he thrust into, rotating his hips in a way that made Sansa tremble and twitch.

“Jon, oh, Jon this is wonderful!” Sansa said as hot tears poured down her cheeks. “It’s only ever hurt before.”

Jon pressed his lips to her cheeks, his tongue darting out to wipe away the salty tears. 

“I’ll only ever make you feel good, I promise. I’ll give you so much pleasure, I’m going to worship you. My beautiful girl, my wonderful sister, and soon my loving wife.” he whispered hotly into her ear as began to speed up his pace but making sure he wasn’t too rough. He would work her up to that.

“Oh Jon, Jon, oh, oh, oh!” Sansa said as he began to bring her closer and closer to peaking. 

“Your cunny is so hot and tight around my cock, your walls are squeezing me so tight, pulling me deeper and deeper into you.” he kept talking, picking up that she liked his filthy words from the way she whimpered and moaned every time he spoke. “Your milking me, sweetling, your body knows what it wants, who it needs, who it  _ belongs  _ to.” 

“AH!” she thrashed her head back and forth, her own hips lifting and rocking up to meet him.

“That’s right, sweetling, you’re mine, you belong to me, your body and your heart. Don’t you understand, haven’t you always understood that you were born for me. All our suffering, all of the separation, it was all to make this moment so much more special.” he lifted himself upon his knees grabbing her hips and pulling her up, flushing her hips to his, and leaning forward with her legs on her shoulder. 

“Gods, you’re so deep!” Sansa sobbed. “It’s brushing inside me just right.”

“Such a good girl, so perfect, always so perfect,” he whispered as he began to pound into Sansa with faster and shorter pumps of his cock, ass flexing. 

“Ah, ah, ahn, yes, yes, Jon, I’m so close.” Sansa moaned, hips humping off the bed, her hand going down to her clit, rubbing furiously while he held her legs and kept going, holding himself back until he was sure that she came first. 

“JON!” he felt her walls constrict, felt the wetness of her climax around his cock and after a few more strokes inside of her, he bottoms out and still, his seed splashing into her waiting womb. Both out of breath, their lust for the time being sated, Jon brought her legs from his shoulders to his hips. He stayed inside of her as he let his body drop onto hers, bracing his weight on his own arms that he had on either side of her head.

He smiled at her, smiled like a little boy, and kissed her lips. 

“Oh, Jon.” Sansa sighed lazily, touching either side of his face and kissing him back. 

Just then a knock sounded on the door, and before Sansa could p rotest he called whoever it was in. The servant girl that entered stuttered an apology and averted her eyes.

“Hurry and fill the bath, if that is what you’re here for,” he told her, not taking removing himself from where he laid atop Sansa.

“Jon, by the gods!” Sansa said, mortified as she shrunk and tried to hide. 

He rolled his eyes and pulled the furs from the bed to cover her and slipped himself out from her cunt, cock now soft and hanging between his legs. Still clothed he tucked himself back into his trousers.

He pulled her up and found a robe and put it around her shoulders. He watched as she kept her eyes on the maid, looking horrified and guilty. 

“Enough, Sansa!” he snapped, cupping her face and making her look at him.

“Is this really that much of a sin?” he asked her. “Our Ancestor Jonnel Stark married his niece Sansa, after the death of his first wife. How is that not any worse than our love, that between only  _ half-siblings _ ?”

She opened her sweet lips to answer, but no words came forth.

“I do love you, Sansa.” he said softly, the maid still in the room, glancing over her shoulder with uncomfortable but not judgmental eyes.

“Don't you love me?” he took her face in her hands.

She nodded. “I love you, Jon,”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for your lovely comments from the first chapter, please if you like this chapter as well leave a comment again as they encourage and inspire me to continue though I still ultimately write for myself.  
> I love to hear what you think, what you like, what you want to see.  
> Enjoy this chapter!

After the bath was filled Jon ordered the maid to pass the message along to servants and lords that he and Sansa were not to be disturbed and they would hold court in the morning, so none of the lords should leave back for their keeps just yet.

Once the girl has skittered off like a frightened squirrel Jon had slipped the robe back off Sansa and brought her to the tub, guiding her hands to help him undress. She gasped and tears came to her eyes when she saw the knife wounds across his chest. These were not like her scars, these were deep stab wounds, impossible to have survived by their placement.

“You said something about the walking dead not answering to gods or men, that you were not right. What happened to you, Jon?” she asked as tears slipped from her eyes once more, trailing down her flushed cheeks as she traced and hissed at each terrible wound.

He doesn't answer. Not at first. He leads her into the tub with him, the water sloshing over the rim from their combined occupation. He was silent for a few seconds as he took the sponge from the small bucket of cloth and bottled wash oils left by the side of the tub. She took it from his hand and began to clean away the blood and mud from the battle. The water turned darker and darker but Sansa paid it no mind. When she came to his chest, to the wounds that she realized did not seem to have closed permanently yet, he put his hand over hers and told her his story.

She cried for him when his tale was done. Sobbing into his neck as she held him in comfort, his arms tight around her stealing her warmth and seeking solace in the bet of her heart. Sansa relished in the righteousness of Jon’s revenge against the traitors who had done such a thing to him. Good, the deserved what they had gotten from Jon. She was so sick and tired of people hurting and betraying her family. She just wanted peace again, for the wars to be over, for love to reign and for the dead to return. All of it felt impossible, not just the latter.

“It’s why they were all so afraid of me, why no man spoke against me when I kissed you. Some think I’m a god after Melisandre brought me back,” he told her, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. He brushed the back of his knuckles over those beautiful high cheekbones, eyes drinking in her face.

Sansa had always been beautiful, more so than her mother, he thinks that was what first attracted him to her. He resented Catelyn so much for her coldness to him, a child who didn’t ask to be born, who was being punished for his father's betrayal of her. Having Sansa in his arms felt like revenge against her even if she didn’t know about it. But it was more than that. He saw Sansa as she was. She was bratty, true, but she was also kind, devoted to her family, and hardworking in her studies. She was clever and charming but serious when called for. She was everything he hoped his mother had been like, the highborn woman he would dream had birthed him. And Sansa was so lovely to look at and the sweet, kitten-like sounds she made when he touched her gave him chills.

He also loved how filthy she could be, that for all her high born, perfect lady appearances she was a lusty girl. Needy for his kisses and his touch. That she liked to play Bael the Bard where he would sneak up on her and press her down, manhandle her and rut against her, taking her like a wildling while she pretended to defend her chastity. She liked feeling forced, to have the control and the blame taken from her. To have the choice removed because it removed the guilt of what she was doing with him and allowed her to still be a lady. It wasn’t an admission that she wanted him, that she was obsessed and loved the feel of his hands on her, the pleasure he gave her. Jon didn’t mind, because he knew it took having a great deal of trust in him for her to do this.

Besides he had his own fantasies when he was with her, he liked to play out how he thought their father met his mother, how he romanced her, how he fucked her, and conceived him. And she let him and called him Ned to fuel the fantasy. She had a devious, open mind when it came to such carnal plays that shocked him and he loved her for it. Sansa would often berate herself and wonder if she somehow wasn’t a bastard herself for having such terrifying lust, and towards her half-brother of all young men. It was proof that bastards were not the only lustful and deviant people in the world and made him feel good about himself and equal with Sansa on some level.

Of course he never actually penetrated her during any of these trists back then. At the time, being the highborn lady that she was, her maidenhead had to be intact for when she was wedded off and Sansa wasn’t known for loving riding to later excuse the lack of it to horse sport. It would raise questions and possibly put her in a very precarious situation with her new husband and the honor of her family.

Instead, he supped on and played with her cunt and buggered her arse with his fingers or had her get on her knees and take his cock in her mouth. He had little doubt she would give her future husband any reason to stray from her bed, her imagination broad enough to rival any trained whore would keep her husband's attention and affections to her. If asked nicely enough, Sansa would give you anything you desired of her that didn’t hurt her.

“I only wish I could have done the same to Joffrey. I shouldn’t have been so hasty to kill Ramsay. Made it so quick for him. I heard the rumors of what he was capable of, what he might be doing to you. We could have cut him up together, made him really suffer for what he did to you,” he said, kissing a line across from shoulder to shoulder, his fingers tracing shapes around her scars on her back, one hand below the water, gently cupping an arse cheek. He just liked feeling it in his palm.

“I’m just glad he’s gone, that he can’t hurt me anymore. That you did it, and you did it for me,” she said, leaning back and washing his face completely clean before kissing the space between his brows. He had permanent lines there now. They weren’t new, he had always been so broody these frown lines were almost expected.

“And I can tell you about Joffrey. It might make you feel better about Ramsay,” she said, rolling her hips as he brought a hand to her front, cupping her cunt under the water and slipping a finger inside of her.

“Go on, tell me how he died, tell me how it made you feel,” he urged her, fingering her and teasing her sweet little clit with his thumb. She told him how he started to choke, the way his face swelled up, how his skin turned purple, his eyes bulged in their sockets, crying tears of blood. She hated it. She had cried at how horrible his death was. She was happy he was gone but as much as she wanted to feel happy about the painful manner of his death she couldn’t.

“My sweet girl, your so good, so kind,” he kissed the swell of her breasts, taking his fingers from her and replacing them with his cock, pushing her down on to him, grunting as he sheathed himself all the way into her body.

“It’s all over now, our enemies are dead, you and I shall rule the North, man and wife, king and queen, brother and sister,” he swore to her, and the way he said it sounded like a prophecy. She moaned and her head dropped back as he bucked harshly up, water splashing out the tub. She gripped the sides, meeting his thrusts as she pictured it, pictured that future.

She felt a palm on her belly and she looked down at where Jon has placed his hand. “I’m going to marry you tomorrow and I’m gonna fuck babe after babe into your womb. We will fill Winterfell with pups, boys, and girls for every person we have lost and more.”

“Yes, oh gods, yes!” She liked that, the thought of her belly big with Jon’s child. A babe at her breast, Jon in bed next to her, always hungry for her and never get enough of her.

She wanted a real family again. She wanted to be his, to be bred, to give him sons and daughters like a good wife. It was all she wanted when she was a girl, to be loved, to live a lavish life, to have a pack of sweet, handsome children at her skirts and make her husband happy and family proud.

If she married him and had children by him it didn’t seem so wrong to her. She never understood why a love like theirs was a sin, why dragons got to mate with their siblings for hundreds of years. Maybe if more houses had started the same practice after Aegon took the Iron Throne things would be different, but it wasnt and people like her and Cersei Lannister and their brothers were shunned and shamed. She didn’t care that Cersei had fucked her brother, she understood that same love for your blood, that desire, that need to feel them inside you. But Cersei and Jaime should have restrained themselves like she and Jon, the Lannister twin's downfall was having children with one another while Cersei was with King Robert rather than doing her duty by her husband. Sansa had been pregnant, just once by Ramsay, but she lost the baby early.

Ramsay had been furious with her, though the Maester said himself it was Ramsay’s treatment of her that caused the miscarriage. She was glad, glad the babe did not live to make her belly swell, to break through her cunt to come into the world. She told herself she would love any child she had, they were hers too after all, but still. She was relieved at the end of the day.

“Yeah, you want that don’t you. Always dreamed of being a mother, a perfect wife, and you will be. For me and unlike your other husbands I know how to make you happy, how to treat you, worship you and make you cum,” she shuddered, hips gyrating now as she chased her release, feeling it get closer and closer.

Sansa arched her back, chest thrusting towards him, her full tits bouncing in front of his face.

“Yes, yes!” she gasped, her chest tingling and belly tight as the tension leading to her orgasm built. “Why shouldn’t we do it, we suffered, we paid in blood, you conquered the North in the Stark name they owe us this as they owed Aegon and his sisters!”

She cried out as he gripped the nape of her neck, bringing her face down to his to steal her mouth in a kiss, tongue seeking hers, devouring her moans down his own throat.

She let go of the side of the tub, grabbing Jon by the back of his head, tearing her mouth from his and pushing his face to her tits, demanding that he suck and he obeyed. He took her nipple in his mouth and suckled like a child, holding her tight as she trembled atop him, hips shaking with her orgasm, cunt clenching so tight around his cock she milked his own, early release, his seed hosing into her womb.

She twitched in his arms, legs quivering under the water. Both of them were trying to catch there breath.

“I think were going to need a new bath,” Sansa said against his temple and Jon started to chuckle. Soon Sansa was laughing too, something she had not done in a very, very long time.

After they were clean they dried each other off, Jon walked to the door completely nude and stuck his head out the door. Podrick Payne, the lad who shadowed Brienne of the Tarth looked at him with a red face. The two had joined Jon at one of his camps, Brienne vowing to help him reclaim Winterfell and rescue Sansa. With him was Satin, Jon’s steward from the Wall when he was Lord Commander, the boy had followed him when he left the Watch.

“Have someone bring us dinner, would you,” He asked Satin who smirked and nodded before leaving. Podrick looked at his shoes when Satin winked at him as he passed him to leave.

Jon would need to talk about to him about being careful with who he tried to seduce, the lords and squires in the North weren’t as desperate for a hole to fuck as some were in The Watch.

Going back inside he smiled at the nightshirt Sansa had laid out on the bed for him. She was dressed in a new one herself, three times to large for her. He remembered that Roose Bolton and Ramsay had taken up residence in these chambers and resisted burning all the clothes in the dressers and trunks. For tonight they would wear what they had and tomorrow he would ask her how she wanted to take care of the Bolton’s effects.

Sansa sits in a chair by the hearth, combing out her hair and singing to herself the way she used to when she brushed out Lady’s coat. He wants to ask what happened to her, to Lady. He knows she’s dead, remembered the way Ghost had whimpered for hours on hours. He had been crying for the sister he had lost. But he didn’t know why or how it happened, just certain that it had. Ghost was currently hunting out traitors in the forests. He would come by the castle soon. He could feel as much. And there were moments, nights, he slipped into Ghost, hunted in his body, roamed the wilderness. Warging, that was what it was called, what he could do with Ghost.

He took the other chair by the fire and reached out, stopping her hands from continuing her practice and lacing his fingers with her, hands held in the space between them.

“Tell me what happened,” he requested. “Tell me about Lady, Father and Arya,”

She swallowed, gripped his hand tighter, and looked away from his, her cheeks coloring with what he thought might be shame in her eyes before she could not see them. “You’ll hate me,”

“Never,” he said, leaning over the side of his chair to kiss her knuckles. “There may be times I might be angry with you, but I will never hate you,”

It was a promise, more true and holding then any vow he will ever say besides there wedding vows.

She looked at him, hair-free and beautiful, fire colors curls tickling her cheeks. Her eyes were glistening, shimmering blue like the sea on a bright day.

She started with the day Lady died.

“I was so angry with father,” she confessed. “I have always been good, and proper and obedient. I never broke the rules,”

Except with him.

“I did everything right, I could have told the truth but I was trying to be kind and save Joffrey face so I lied. I said I couldn’t remember. And somehow I was punished for it. _Lady_ was punished for and father just did it. He killed her. It wasn’t right, it was fair, it was not justice and I was so angry at him!” he stroked her fingers with his thumb, listening.

“The king never gave an explicit order and father still did it. He could have fought against the queens demands, Joffrey, if he just tried harder I'm sure the King would have sided with him. Even still, he could have just sent her back to Winterfell alive and not a pelt. He didn’t have to kill her.” she told him, heaving a deep breath. “And I couldn’t forgive him for doing it.”

She closed her eyes, remembering.

“I didn’t hate him, I just couldn’t forgive him and---” she stopped and wiped at her eyes.

Sansa then told him about stealing lemon cakes from the kitchen, speaking back to her Septa, having morbid, unladylike conversations, and how things just got worse and worse between her and Arya.

“I don’t hate her, but I would not blame you for thinking I did. It just never seemed fair how father always favored her so much. He let her get away with everything with a smile on his face,” she muttered, looking at him with an apology.

Jon sighed, he had heard so often Arya's side of the story. Remembered how she would come crying to him after a particular nasty fight with Sansa when she called Arya a particularly cruel name.

“And yet Arya always felt like an outsider because of how she looked, because she wasn’t like you and how you teased her for it,” he said gently, it didn’t feel right not to defend Arya.

“You should like to hear that Brienne of Tarth said she saw Arya,” Sansa snapped her head up, looking at him and he explained what Brienne said to him when they met.

“I hope she comes home soon,” she whispered looking into the flames. “I want to apologize. I was so horrible to her, all because I was jealous,”

Jon laughed and Sansa looked at him queerly.

“You and Arya, you were both jealous of each other. She of your accomplishments, how easy being a lady came to you and you were jealous of the attention father gave her,” he shook his head. “Two sides of the same coin, that's what the two of you are.”

That made Sansa smirk.

“Keep going,” he urged and she did as he asked. She kept going. She told him all about what happened in Kingslanding, and he could see how Lady’s death had affected her, the change in her behavior and attitude. Others might not have noticed yet just listening to her Jon could tell the difference in her. In her own way, Sansa had rebelled against their father for what he did.

“I tried to love Joffrey, to imagine a life with him. I enjoyed the capital, the court, the tourneys and father suddenly said it was all going to go away. We were going to return to Winterfell. I was so upset. I wanted to say goodbye, I had not seen these lions as the snakes that they were yet, I just wanted to say goodbye. That’s all I wanted. I had no idea what would happen, what father had discovered, and what he was trying to do…”

She started to cry again, telling him how she had begged for their father's life, got on her knees for Joffrey, and heard him say he would be merciful only for him to cut off their fathers head before her very eyes. She started saying it was all her fault. Jon stood from his chair and went to Sansa, pulling her up and then taking her seat while pulling her into his lap, rocking her and soothing her.

“No, no, sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault,” he tried to assure her. “You couldn’t have known what father had discovered, what his plans were, why he wanted to leave if he never told you. It wasn’t fair and it was confusing for you, I’m sure. It’s not your fault.”

He rubbed her back and peppered her face with kisses until she had calmed down.

“It’s time to move forward, we will miss them, and mourn them, but we have to look ahead,” he told her. “We’re home, we’re together and there is a storm coming we have to start preparing for.”

Before she could ask him what he meant by that there was a knock on their door.

“Enter,” he looked around the high back of the chair and watched the servants enter with ale, wine, and a platter of food for him and Sansa.

“Will you be in need of anything else,” they asked them, the women with a few blushes, the man adverting his eyes.

“No, that should be it for the evening,” they could pour their own drinks and make their own plates.

“Yes, my lord,” bowing they left them.

Getting a good hold on Sansa, he picked her up as he stood and brought her to the table. He set her down in a chair and lifted the tray, urging her to eat. She ate like a bird. He frowned at that and took her fork and knife from her, feeding her himself to make sure she ate it all. There were chicken and potatoes, with spinach and gravy.

They even saw to sending up lemon cakes for Sansa. He really enjoyed feeding those to her, feeling her tongue on his fingers, sucking on them to get every bit of lemon zest and small crumb. She looked so gorgeous, so unbelievable to him. This felt like a dream. He wasn’t worthy of the women before him, him her bastard brother. She deserved someone better, someone good and whole, not a man come back from the dead, who had broken his oaths and murdered men in rage and bloodlust. And yet he wasn’t good, and he was selfish, and angry and had no intention of giving Sansa up. Not unless she asked him to.

After they had both ate and drank their fill they crawled into bed together.

“What will we do now?” she asked him after giving a yawn, exhausted from the day.

He kissed the top of her head, her cheek pressed to his collar bone.

“Do you remember the stories about wights and others that Old Nan used to tell us?” he asked her and she nodded against him, telling him how they used to give her such terrible nightmares.

“They are real. The wights, the others. I fought them. They’ve been killing Free Folk beyond the wall and turning them into wights, gathering an army this world has only seen once before and they are coming for all of us,” he told her and held her closer when he felt her shiver. She looked up at him, eyes a bit frightened but there was a confidence there, in him. She urged him to tell her everything and he did.

“I believe you,” she told him when he was done. “I believe you, and we’ll find a way to make the lords believe it too. We have the Wall to buy us time, we’ll find a way to win,”

He nodded, glad he hadn’t gone south, glad he had come home to her instead.

“But we can’t underestimate and forget the threats to the south either. Once Cersei learns about the Bolton’s, that the Starks hold Winterfell again---”

He nodded. “I know. But Winter is here, it’ll be hard for her to get a summer army past The Neck. But we won’t count her out, we’ll find a way to prepare for both.”

She kissed his neck and nuzzled closer into his side.

“In the morning, I’ll hold court. We’ll tell the lords about the Night King, then I’ll declare you Queen in the North and we’ll marry. And anyone who has an issue with it can burn for all I care,” and he meant it. He wasn't fond of the idea of a man burning alive, there was no dignity in such a death, but he would not let anyone get between him and Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you in the tags Sansa is kinky as fuck. She's also got issues. Oh, and the reason why some women like rape-play/fantasy that I gave is legit. There are studies and shit on it so don't you fucking shame Sansa or me. We all like what we like for reasons.


	3. Chapter 3

She had always felt a kindred spirit to Cersei, it was not until the rumors began about the queen’s children that she understood why that truly was. She just wished Cersei had been kinder to her, returned the affection and trust Sansa granted her. Maybe they could have helped each other, maybe things could have been different.

She looked at Jon, his face smooth of frown line in his sleep, so beautiful with his Stark features and coloring. She ran a finger down the scars over his eyes. Her brave man, so strong, so fierce. She knew he was changed, how could death not change a man. He didn’t have the same reservations about their relationship, the realism that it would never be more than a young, lusty romance forbidden by the laws of gods and men. Fuck gods, fuck men. Neither seemed good for anything anymore, both bystanders, doing nothing to intervene in the suffering of others. Why should she or Jon care about what they thought anymore, their laws. Jon had died, there were no flames, no torture for his sins. The fear of punishment after death by the gods disappeared from them. Jon had a hole in heart, a piece of him left back in that dark abyss he visited and she mourned it.

She did. Jon’s sense of duty, his morals, his guilts, all of it was stolen from him. He was not afraid anymore. Of anything and that gave her courage too.

Tomorrow they would be wed. Tomorrow he would make a queen of her and give her children and love for the rest of their days. She felt butterflies fluttering in her belly at the hope of it all. She would have everything. And there would be those who would seek to take it from her. She would have to be on her guard, have to make sure to get the people to love her, their loyalty would help protect her family in the future. It would be hard, what they were doing had never been done in the North, or outside the Targaryen’s. It wasn’t that Sansa or Jon thought the Starks were better than anyone else and this was out of some agenda to keep their blood pure. Sansa would not arrange marriages between her own children like Targaryen mothers did. No, she and Jon were just a special case, only half-siblings, with a connection and attraction that took them by surprise as they got older and started noticing one another more in a new light. It was not a tradition they would likely continue, though they would also not discourage it in the future if two siblings found each other in love like them. It was a dangerous endeavor but Sansa just could not bring herself to care over the consequences.

This wasn’t about power, or control it was just about being happy again. Jon made her happy.

She eventually fell asleep, tucked into his side.

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/**

The feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath and the soft, gentle rhythm of his heart, told her that the night before was not a dream. This was real, Jon was with her. Ramsay was dead and Winterfell belonged to Starks once more. She was so elated she wanted to cry out, to bounce on the bed but she had no wish to wake Jon just yet.

She quietly escaped his arms and went over to the desk. If she was to be wed by the end of the day she had not much time and would have to work quickly on the preparations. She made a list of supplies she was going to need. The dress she had worn for her wedding to Ramsay had once belonged to her father's mother and it was torn and stained beyond repair thanks to Ramsay. Once the ink dried she tiptoed to the door, opening it ever so slowly. She went to the servant's chambers down the hall and knocked. A woman answered, curtsying quickly when she saw who it was.

“I want you to get everything on this list, go into Winter town if you have to and come back as soon as possible,” she instructed, handing the paper off before returning to her room with Jon. She jumped a little when she saw he was awake now.

She had hoped he would not have heard her leave so he could rest some more.

He stretched across the bed, reaching for her. His fingers curled around her wrist as she approached and he yanked her down beside him, though he was soon above her. He put himself between her thighs, pushing up the bottom of her shirt up to her hips while kissing her neck, jaw, and at last her mouth. She was already wet for him she noted with some embarrassment. She let her legs fall wider open for him, taking him by the shoulders and drawing her closer to her, kissing his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, and then groaning as she felt the blunt tip of his cock push between her folds and into her waiting body.

She welcomed him like he had always been a part of her, and his cock was simply returning to it’s home. The fit of him was just right to her body, not too thick, not too long. Just perfect. It was like her cunt had been shaped just for him, no other would seat themselves inside her and feel like perfection, touch, and press against all the right spots within her. Only Jon.

He had her slow and tender, mewling and sighing beneath him as he ruts his cock in and out of her, his lips caressing her breasts and nipples, fingers nimbly dancing over that bud that sent her into a squirming fit. There were no words that were needed to convey their desires, their wants, this time. Just the movements and touches of the other body said it all. Jon was worshiping her and Sansa him. It felt almost a holy experience.

The world could have been set ablaze, the others could have free zed the castle over and they would not have noticed. They were dangerous together, obsessed with the other, blinded and Sansa didn’t want them to be like Cersei Lannister, who cared only for themselves.

She remembered her lessons from the capital, she did not want to be the type of queen Cersei was. No. Sansa would make the people love her, they just had to get through this first meeting with the lords and the wedding, after things would be set in stone and they would grow out, see to the needs of their land and people. They had to be the best of rulers to counter the sin of their union. If they were great enough monarchs, then their transgression against the gods could be overlooked as it had been with the Targaryen’s. They had to gain love and build power. That was the only way to survive. To win the game of thrones.

She shuddered beneath Jon, her fingers clawing at him, pressing him to her as she arched up into his body in a way she hoped would join them, fuse their bodies into one person, one soul. Then her heart felt like it was on fire as she realized that was exactly what creating a child together was. Putting them both into one vessel, creating a new soul made from half of each of them.

Sansa locked her legs around Jon’s hips, holding him against her and inside of her, keeping him there. He did’t protest, just adjusted his arms so he wasn’t putting his full weight on her. He kissed her cheek and her temple, sighing into her neck at the feel of her arms across his back, hands rubbing over his ribs. She was a solace from the strife of the world, a remedy to all his ailments, the thing that soothed the beast of his darkened soul and filled his lungs with breath again and the courage to fight on when his weary heart screamed to run somewhere warm and rest.

Only when there was a knock on the door did Sansa release him, legs falling away from his hips so he could pull himself out and off of her. She pulled a sheet over herself, her face flushed almost pomegranate red, looking at her knees pressed together under the sheets. He got off the bed and pulled his own sleep shirt over his nudity, calling for the interrupting fool to enter. Servants kept their eyes down as they entered with steaming plates of breakfast and a jug of fresh milk. The maester of the castle followed in after, delivering a number of scrolls that they had received in the night.

“You may go, if I seek your counsel on any of these we will call for you. As decided last night, we will be holding court today, make sure the lords are all aware.” Jon said to Maester Wolkan, looking over the seals on the scrolls and dismissing the man. He glanced at Sansa with a great deal of concern, knowing her history with Ramsay intimately. She gave him a smile to let him know things were alright, not that he would do anything about if even if she wasn’t, and nodded her agreement that he should leave them now.

“My lady, my lord,” he bowed and exited with the servants.

“You should have waited till I was dressed before allowing them in!” Sansa scolded Jon, glaring. She kept holding the sheets to herself even as she stood from the bed, searching for her nightshirt and robe.

“Though I admit I don’t like the thought of anyone but me viewing your radiant body, I meant what I said about teaching everyone who you belong to. Let those who won't be present for the wedding consummation see you now and know you are mine,” Jon said, voice husky as he broke open a pomegranate, slurping up the seeds from inside in a way that was reminiscent of how he tended to her wet cunt.

“Are you not afraid to shame me?” she asked, finding her robe at last. “Having others see me so?”

“I see nothing to be ashamed of. I am not ashamed others know you are mine, that I am so lucky a man to have a woman as beautiful as you naked in my bed and I do not fear them. Not like you do.” This new Jon, this unrestrained, shameless Jon is so frustrating. He needs to learn or they will be doomed.

She sighs as she pulls on her robe, tying it tight around her waist, making it clear they will not be making love again that morning. “We need the lords to support and respect us. Our relationship is already going to make that difficult. If we show restraint and decency it could help our cause with them.”

She came over to the table and sat across him. “The Targaryen’s could get away with marrying brother to sister because the roots of their faith were neither Andalos or First men. They were different, they came from different laws and traditions, worshipped different gods. And they rode dragons. They alone of all the men in the world had been given the power to tame fearsome beasts. Only those with dragon blood were seen to be exempt.”

She and Jon did not have dragons, dire wolves were terrifying, mystical beasts but not on the level of a dragon. They would truly have to prove themselves above common men to just marry and live as they please without any backlash from their lords and people.

“When Septon Baldrick was confronted by a hedge knight after King Jaeherys married Queen Alysanne, he was asked if he could have leave to fuck his sister if he wanted. The Septon answered that if he could claim a dragon, he would marry the knight and his sister himself.” she poured herself some milk and then forked some eggs onto her plate along with bacon and black bread.

“How do you know so much,” he asked her, mouth half full. She gave him a disapproving glance as she cut her egg, dipping a corner of the black bread into the yolk.

“I read all I could about the Targaryen’s, trying to find some way we could be together,” she admitted, cheeks pink as she stared at her plate rather than looking at him.

“Oh, Sansa,” he breathed, touched that she had made such an effort for them without him knowing. She looked up, their eyes meeting. They smiled. Then Jon’s face cooled down again, a shadow coming over his grey eyes.

“What is riding a dragon compared to rising from the dead?” he asked. “That has to leave the impression that the laws of men don’t apply to me, that I am different as the Targaryen’s. I can do what I want.”

And in that he was so very confident it made Sansa believe, it made her hope and those were dangerous things for her. She had believed in Robb once. She had put her hope in the Tyrells to rescue her and make her happy. Those feelings just lead to pain. She told herself Jon was different, he had always been different.

“We shall be the Jaehaerys and Alysanne of the North, we shall be loved and work hard, our kingdom will prosper and we will have many children. We will be happy, Sansa, I promise you. Just have some faith in me,”

“Perhaps your right” she tried to let some of the tension leave her shoulders and relax. It was difficult. “But we have to be careful, we are playing a dangerous game, we must trust each other. That means you have to be open to listening to my council. I know more than you think from my time in the South.”

He nodded, picking up her hand and kissing her fingers, soft, full lips brushing over her knuckles then pressing directly to the middle of the back of her hand. “As my queen says,”

Sansa tried and failed to repress a joyous smile. Yes, they would be happy, all would be well.

“We must discuss what is to be said to the lords at court, we have to be prepared. There will be lords who have the courage to speak up against us and we need to know what to say. We can not stumble, we need to present a plan, goals to them, and not just defend our love.” Jon nodded but she could tell this was not her strong suit, and so she did most of the talking as they went over their arguments, their counters, their plans for the North, and the Lords who have been idle in their loyalty to House Stark. They also went over the correspondences received that morning.

Sometime during their talk, Sansa’s order of fabrics arrived. She then had the servants put together a sewing circle of the best in Winterfell to help her with her dress. She gave the design to one of the girls and commanded they get started on it without her. Once the morning's court was over she would be joining them.

Jon was beaming at her.

“Since you insisted we get married so soon, do not expect anything of my usual quality of skill. It will just be a simple white gown of velvet and satin with a little lace and beading.” she shrugged and Jon pulled her from her seat to stand, held in his arms.

“We’ll marry in the sept, a Septon and Lady Melisandre will perform the rights for us,” he said and Sansa nodded in agreement. She did not wish to marry so soon again in the Godswood and she told herself there would be time to renew their vows before a heart tree after they were married under the Faith and the Light of R’hllor. As long as Sansa was bound to Jon she did not care who performed the ceremony.

And when Jon told her how he planned to lay her down on pillows int he aisle of the sept and take her in front of all the lords and ladies, how she was going to look divine played below him, the lords jealous gazes on him and hte women on her, Sansa shivered with anticipation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for your continuing comments, I am glad so many of you are enjoying this story so far.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No sex in this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back with this craziness.

Sansa was a vision in forest green velvet and a silk and pearl belt. A silver dire-wolf head was pinned between her breasts. Her hair was done in a simple fashion, twisted and pinned off from her face with the rest running down her back in gentle waves of firelight auburn. She was radiant. Jon had her enter on his arm and he smiled when she stood a little taller when all rose on their arrival, not sitting until both of them had done so.

The looks they were receiving were a mix of admiration, disgust, fear, and joy.

Underneath the table, he held her hand on his knee when they took their seats at the high table, only letting it go when she nodded for him to begin and he stood. He looked over the crowd with hard, unforgiving eyes, many a man shrinking under his icy gaze.

“I want to thank the lords and ladies present, fewer than we would have liked or expected, for keeping your oaths to House Stark and helping reclaim Winterfell and purge the North of the Bolton’s,” the lords were uncomfortable, good.

“But why, my lords and ladies, did it take a bastard, deserter of the Wall to make you rally when your liege lord’s daughter, your kings heir apparent, was so close to you? All you had to do was unite and rebel against the Bolton’s to rescue her as you did for me. Nothing new to you considering the war you had been fighting in the South for our independence.” He shrugged, looking baffled at them.

“So then enlighten me my lords, I beg you. My sister Sansa was right here, under your noses, I know you knew this yet you did nothing. Why?” there was ice in his voice, dangerous and dangling like the executioners ax over each of their heads. They feared him, that was clear. Good, let them fear him.

The lords were quiet, looking to one another, waiting for someone to answer other than themselves.

“Come my lords, speak up. Where was your Northern honor and loyalty when the eldest daughter of your liege lord was being wed again to your enemy, when she was being raped and tortured in her own home so that her screams could be heard in Wintertown?!” He slammed his fist to the table, roaring, teeth bared and ready to tear into someone throat.

It was small, eleven-year-old Lyanna Mormont of Bear Island, the first house Jon had gone to, the first to pledge men to the cause of taking back Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton.

“There have been conflicting reports on the loyalties of Lady Sansa. She married The Imp, she then abandoned him and is said to have been the one to poison Joffrey Baratheon. Then she comes North and weds another enemy of her own family, we weren’t confident she could be trusted and depended on, that she was against us not for us,” he listens and his fist clench. Jon is ready to strangle the little girl for her ignorance. He supposes he can only blame her age.

Jon’s shoulders relaxed as he faced off with the small she-bear.

“My lady, let my enlighten you to the facts that even a bastard like myself is aware to be true in this world. Highborn girls, rarely, if ever get a choice in who they wed. Not every woman is like your mother who forgoes marriage and mates with bears. You yourself may be pressured to wed a man you want nothing to do with,” he said pointedly to her and looked to all the lords and ladies.

“How many of you have chosen your daughters husbands, or arranged marriages for your sisters? It is the fathers, the older brothers and uncles who ultimately say who women will marry. My sister was no different, she has had no say in her marriages from her betrothal to Joffrey to her marriages to Tyrion Lannister and Ramsay Snow. She has been powerless through this all. A hostage, a victim, and you dare judge her, question her character and loyalty!” they could hang, they could all hang but for the love he bore Sansa and the peace they needed he would not do it.

“My sister did not marry The Imp because she loved him, or felt any sense of duty to him. She was forced by the people keeping her prisoner to marry. They would have dragged her by the hair to the sept to get her claim. In regards to Ramsay Snow, she was tricked to come North by Petyr Baelish who promised her if she wed Ramsay he would help her kill the Bolton’s and avenge her brother and mother. Instead, he sold her to the Bolton’s and has not been seen or heard from since. These were no love matches, there was no loyalty my sister had to either, no affection that would ever compromise her duty, love, and loyalty to her family and the North. She was used but no more!”

He took a deep breath, reigning in his fury, calming himself so that he wouldn’t be perceived as mad. That’s not what they needed, that’s not what Sansa wanted.

“I want to make it incredibly clear, despite your _conflicting_ information, Sansa, as my fathers last legitimate child known alive to us, is our brother Robb’s heir and thus the Queen of the North. She is _y_ _our queen_ and you best start giving her the respect that title is deserving of,” his voice was not a shout, not a howl but a low, but a hiss so sharp it cut with an unsaid threat in each syllable.

He took her hand then and Sansa stood so he could properly present her.

“And if you are hesitant to follow a woman ruling alone then I have a solution to your problem. If you were willing to fight for me before, then you should have little qualm having me as Prince Consort beside our Queen Sansa.” he kissed her cheek as the lords rose to make their arguments against Sansa and him marrying, speaking loudly over each other in discontent.

The outrage was practically shaking the room. Men were standing, hands were on the pommel of swords, the stone walls practically vibrated with the power of the numerous voices howling over each other, making sure every insult, every threat, every one of their thoughts was heard. They cried out how it was a sin, an insult to the gods, that a curse would come onto the North if the union was allowed to happen.

“Quiet!!!” Jon roared. “Our gods no longer care about us. I have died and seen the other side and there was nothing, no flames, no punishment for the sins I committed, no great gods staring me down and passing judgment on my soul. I do not doubt the existence of the gods my lords, simply they have abandoned us and so I do not answer to the gods anymore!”

He drew his sword and challenged any man to face him to the right to wed his sister. Some began to draw there swords, others just rested their hand on the pommel. There would be blood spilled. He didn’t care, his blood was hot, heart pounding and the dark mass around his heart pulsated with the urge to kill.

Sansa spoke then.

“My lords and ladies, I know how this seems to you. The peculiarity, the sin of such a union but these are peculiar and sinful times.” her voice was clear and smooth. She swallowed her pride and took a deep breath.

“Ramsay Snow mutilated me. I can still have children per the examinations of the maester, but I would not be able to stomach another mans touch without vomiting. The thought of it, of a stranger having that much power and liberty with my person---” she shuddered and Jon touched her arm, showing the room that his touch did not revolt her. “What good would I be to my husband and what would that say of the man who would still take his marital rights with me knowing how I feel,”

“I know Jon. He is more than my bastard brother, he has always been a protector and considerate of others and I trust him. He is the only man left in this world I may be capable of ever trusting enough to be able to stomach being so close as to sire children on me,” she said and Jon was so proud of her for admitting her fears, her traumas.

“I ask for your tolerance and your compassion to accept this marriage between myself and Jon so that I may do my duty to the North as your queen, to give the North an heir and so I may live without fear of my own husband for once in my life.” she pleaded gently, doing that even beautifully.

A tear slips down her cheek and her eyes hardened on the lords and ladies.

“This is an act of desperation not passion, my lords. This is survival. Accept our marriage so that the Stark pack may grow again, so that the house you have had faith in for thousands of years does not disappear in the winds of winter. Look into your hearts, look around you at what the war has done to us and think to yourself is this really the most heinous thing we could do. Is this the worst possible sin we could commit, marrying _half-_ siblings?”

“The war we fought wasn’t over siblings marrying, it wasn’t over Cersei having children with her twin. It was that she lied, that she passed her bastards off as King Roberts sons, it was for the freedom from deceivers and manipulators that the North wished to be free of. The war was not a holy one to punish the Lannister’s for the sin of incest. It was about murder and lies, it was about greed and cruelty. Not the love between a brother and sister, but the love a son had for his father who was unjustly taken from this world.” she looked at Jon, smiled and he felt like the world around them dissipated.

“Perhaps we need to stop fighting so much against the tide of what we think is a sin and see where it can take us. The Targaryen’s had their madmen and women, yes, but they also had many a great king and queen. Maybe the gods are telling us it time for a change of ways, to embrace our fears, that we are just as exceptional as the Targaryen’s and that we can take hold of our own destiny.” she spoke calmly, sure of herself, chin tilted regally.

“Or perhaps the gods are testing us, testing our devotion to their laws to see if we are no better than the Southren’s like the Lannisters!” one man shouted from the back.

“And yet my brother has told you, there is nothing after death to fear, the gods do not punish us for the sins we have committed in this life when death takes hold of us. What point is there to test us rather than play us like fools, put us down, limit us!?” she asked them, hating herself because she felt like she was thinking perhaps like Cersei might. Remembering how she said the gods had not mercy, that was what made them gods.

“It’s time we stop holding ourselves back, we need to think like Valyrian’s. Stop being afraid and build up. There is a place for tradition, for the worship of the Old Gods, I am not telling you to abandon either. I am asking you to broaden your minds and see how much more the North can be.”

Jon wasn’t sure what else they could say to these stubborn old fools. He tried to think of what Sansa had went over with him, arguments, but his mind was drawing a blank as to anything he could add to this important conversation other than how much he loved Sansa. But he felt that would do more damage with the lords.

“Think over what we have said, but this marriage will take place this afternoon. You may come as enemies, with swords drawn against us or as honored guests to take seats in the pews of the sept as we say our vows.” Sansa said and then took her seat, looking up at Jon then the Lords.

“Jon will now enlighten you to the threat beyond the wall,” with the change of subject Jon focused on the Night King, telling the lords about Hardhome, about the wights he had seen and fought, the threat that this posed to not just the North but the entire realm of men on the continent.

Some believed, and others were skeptical. They wanted proof. Jon had an idea about that. He was suggesting to send the corpses of some of the men that fell retaking Winterfell to the Wall, there the bodies would be put in the cells at Castle Black with the hope they would rise as wights. He told them about the body that was brought to the wall around the time he was first there, that it had attacked lord Commander Mormont in his own chamber. If the bodies rise again like that one did, Jon would have their proof.

Meanwhile he reminded them about the time and place of the wedding and Sansa blushed beautifully when he explained their would be no bedding, but he would be taking his rights with Sansa right after their vows to cement their marriage for all of them to witness. He could tell Sansa wanted him to keep quiet about that, if anything she probably thought it was just words and he had no plans to actually take her so publicly but oh how she was mistaken. And the hypocritical fools, he could see some shift in their seats with arousal, some cocks tenting their trousers and trying to hide it.

“Now my lords, we shall leave you and look forward to seeing your joyous faces later at the ceremony.”he helped Sansa stand and took her arm and looped it in his. His eyes never left her as he lead them out of the room. It was clear that thought Sansa said this was a choice made out of desperation on her part, for Jon it was nothing but love for Sansa.

When they were far enough, Jon un-linked his arm with Sansa to instead put it around her waste. He tucked her into his side, holding her close. He knew she was shaken about this though she was not showing it. She was scared, she was scared of the lords reactions, how they would react. They may very well come out of the sept later with swords pointed at their throats.

“No matter what happens, what they choose to do I will protect you and we’ll leave. We’ll go somewhere warm, where we can just be us, where we can love one another openly without consequence,” he promised, kissing her temple.

She hummed against his shoulder, leaning into him, head down so she he couldn’t see her frightened tears. She had done her best to script their meeting, coached Jon on the possible arguments, but nothing went how Sansa planned. Jon blamed himself. He should have stayed calmer, stuck to the script that she had bothered to go create and go over with him and he completely disregarded it. He was just so enraged and disgusted by those bastards he lost his composure and they may now pay the price for it. He could only hope that Sansa’s words managed to get to them, even a little. He didn’t want her to suffer any more disappointments.

To his own displeasure, he and Sansa were soon parting. She was going to work on her wedding gown and speak to the steward about the household running, their winter provisions, the repairs needed to the castle. It was a lot of work. Jon was going to write to his friend Sam at the Citadel with what’s happened in the North and then come up with a training regime for their army. He also needed to discuss an escape plan with Brienne about getting Sansa out of Winterfell if the lords turned violent on them before, during or after the wedding. To say the least. Brienne was not pleased with their union but she kept her opinion to herself. It was her eyes that gave away her concern over the matter.

As long as she did her duty and protected Sansa he didn’t care about her good opinion of him or Sansa. She already swore he oaths to Sansa and she wasn’t being asked to unjustly murder someone or do anything to dishonor herself but stand by as they wed.

late, mere hours before the wedding, while he was being changed into the finest clothes he managed to dig up, a knock sounded at the door. Satin’s voice came through the wood, a few lords had wish to speak with him. Jon grabbed for long claw and allowed them entrance. He tried to keep a casual appearance, holding Long claw at his hip while the tailor was fixing the length of his trousers. If need be he would be able to unsheathe Long Claw against these men.

“Lord Glover, Lord Manderly, Lord Flint, and Lady Mormont what need do you have of me?” he raised a brow in their direction. “If you have come to stop me from showing at my own wedding--”

“No, Commander Snow, we have taken the time you given us and have agreed to abide this marriage.” said Lord Manderly, though the look on his face said it was not something they were completely happy with.

“We spoke with House Stark’s maester and others who came to attend the injured from the battle.” Said Lady Mormont. “Ignoring our perceived sinful nature of this marriage, they have concluded that though a union of half siblings such as you and the Lady Sansa is unprecedented, the likely hood of a healthy child being born to the both of you is the same as if an uncle wed his niece.”

Jon felt his irritation spark. “Your point?”

“The point is that there is not the same fear of deformities and stillbirths as if you and the Lady Sansa shared the same two parents, and so we lords can not argue against this marriage with the statistic your child will be an abomination in the physical sense.” said Lord Manderly, clearly irritated by this fact.

Jon couldn’t help but smirk as the lords dissatisfaction.

“To try and remove you and Lady Sansa from power feels like a fools errand. Especially in these time. House Stark has few times disappointed and failed the North, my lord,” Said Lord Flint, “Stark have endured what few can. They are thoughtful of their people and until recent years have not shown themselves to be spontaneous and selfish folk.”

Jon narrowed his eyes at that, knowing that the man was referring to Robb’s marriage to the Essosi woman, Talisa, and of course himself and Sansa.

“Lady’s Sansa words did inspire us to think of the North’s future,” Lord Flint continued. “And despite so much having happened, there are those that still believe in the honor and dependability of House Stark. We will support this marriage and accept you and Lady Sansa as King and Queen in the North.”

“But--” Lady Mormont spoke again. “It is a one time exception. For the prosperity of the North and our allies, sibling marriage will not be a tradition among the Stark’s, even among half siblings. Your children will marry outside your house to the gain of the North.”

Jon wanted to rage, to question who these men and single child thought they were to demand such things of him, to set rules for him to follow but he thought of Sansa, of their future, of the war with the Night King.

Jon clenched his teeth, “Agreed,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that this is crack, and that Sansa's argument is almost purposefully weak because I didn't put a lot of effort into it. Outside of just kink, II can't think of a very good argument as to why two siblings should get married other than 'we love each other', especially in this universe. It's nuts, but this is a silly little fic so whatever right?  
> Most of you seem to understand this already.


End file.
